Sandy
by beautiful.mind-broken.body
Summary: Oneshot about Sandy, her baby and her Grandmother. Written for the WSOTTA January Rumble.


-1"Sandra, that baby isn't going to change itself."

I was draped over the railing of the old weather-beaten porch, which wrapped around the front of my grandmother's old house and overlooked much of the main street in town. I ignored her comment and instead gazed dreamily out into the front yard. One of the things I missed most about being in Tulsa was the grass. Soft, verdant grass that wasn't so bristly it just might cut you open if you dared to lie down in it. The kind of luscious lawns that weren't crawling with those terrible fire ants who bite and sting and give you dreadful red dots on your ankles and feet.

"Sandra?" Grandmother called again.

I also missed being called Sandy. Mostly, I missed the way Sodapop Curtis would say it.

"_Oh, Soda…" _I thought with a wistful sigh.

"Sandra Hinton!" Grandmother was suddenly beside me on the porch looking very perturbed. "Did you hear what I said child?"

"Yes, Grandmother," I answered dutifully and led the way back into the house.

"…never going to make it to heaven with that kind of ungrateful attitude," Grandmother was preaching to herself.

When I had first been banished from Tulsa, Grandmother and I spent our days praying for my salvation. Now Grandmother did that while I took care of the baby.

He was the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen and I was sure it wasn't just a mother's partiality. Even the patronizing women from Grandmother's church had said, "For a bastard, he certainly is handsome."

"Just like his Daddy," I'd answered and Grandmother had almost fainted. She had made it perfectly clear that she couldn't abide any talk of 'the rogue that stole my innocence.' What she couldn't understand was that nothing had been stolen from me, but rather given with all of my heart.

"There's my little Sodapop," I said soothingly as I scooped my most precious possession out of his playpen. "Mamma's here."

I could feel Grandmother's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head, but I just kept changing Soda. He would be a year old in a few weeks and was already crawling.

"When are you going to stop this nonsense Sandra?" Grandmother demanded, clutching her bible in her hands. "Stop calling the child by that heathen name. I thought we agreed that we would be calling him Reginald, after your dear Grandfather--God rest his soul."

I paused for a minute, then hastily pinned Soda's diaper closed, being careful not to stick his soft little belly.

"_We_ never agreed on anything," I sighed. "_I _never get to make decisions for myself anymore."

"Well, we all know what happens when you do," She said, looking pointedly at the baby in my arms.

His name is Sodapop, Grandmother," I said firmly. "I named him after his father, who is a wonderful man, not a heathen."

Soda wriggled in my arms, anxious to be crawling around the nursery. I held him tightly though, afraid that if I put him down I'd never have the strength I so desperately needed.

"Grandmother," I said shakily, squeezing Soda gently for some consolation. "We're leaving."

Grandmother's face went from stonily ashen to furiously scarlet in a matter of seconds as she processed exactly what I had just said.

"You're _what_?" She challenged as I wrestled my suitcase out of the closet. "You can't leave! Where will you go? How will you take care of Reginald?"

I rolled my eyes and started stuffing diapers and bottles and extra clothes into the suitcase. "Me and _Soda_ will manage just fine," I assured her. "I've got a little money saved up."

That little bit of money was exactly enough for a one way ticket back to Tulsa. I laid Soda in his bassinette, finished gathering what few belongings I could carry and turned back to Grandmother.

"I know you meant well," I sighed, kissing her on her leathery cheek. "But this boy needs a Daddy. And I need to be someplace where I'm not going to be punished for the best mistake of my life."

Soda cooed from inside his bunting and I couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you for everything Grandmother," I said sincerely. "But we'd better be going home now."

Not a single word was able to find its way to Grandmother's lips and--to be honest--I was glad. I'd rather leave things as they were than to leave running from her sermons.

As I stepped out into the bright sunlight form the darkness of Grandmother's house, I had one thing on my mind.

"_I hope you're ready to be a daddy Sodapop Curtis."_


End file.
